Bad Days and Good Days
by Spazzcat-Katori
Summary: It's been six months since the accident, and Hiro has bad days and good days, but things are about to take a turn for the better. T for dark behaviours.


It's been six months since Tadashi's death, four since Callaghan was defeated and locked away.

Hiro still has good days and bad days, sometimes more of one than the other. On his good days he almost seems like he's still that energetic fourteen-year-old Tadashi brought to the lab, fascinated by everything and eyes shining with joy and excitement instead of tears, and they all make the most of it while they can and try to preserve it as long as they can.

And on bad days they might get a text in the morning from Aunt Cass, that Hiro isn't getting out of bed, just staring at the wall, and the others will take turns going to his lectures for him and taking notes to be crammed into his head on a good day, and maybe even on one of his better okay days so he doesn't fall behind in his work.

Sometimes, though, shadows fall on him when they're not watching, falling out of nowhere so they come into his room and find him turning one of Cass's kitchen knives over and over in his hands or holding a soldering iron too close to his skin or once, a week after the battle with Callaghan, when the fact that the enemy was defeated and Tadashi's killer would pay for his crimes and their goal was accomplished was really sinking in, contemplating a full bottle of the extra-strength painkillers the hospital had given him for the battering he took. They'll take the knives, the soldering irons, the pills out of his hand and pull him into their arms and hold him tight in sympathetic silence, because words won't drive back the shadows that come from the empty side of the room where Tadashi is supposed to be.

And sometimes they don't get there fast enough and have to call out Baymax from his deactivated state themselves because Hiro never utters a sound when he drags the knife across his wrist or presses the scorching metal of the iron into his thigh.

But little by little, the number of good days starts to rise, and even if he's not really having fewer bad days at least they're spreading out, enough so that on the six-month anniversary of Tadashi's death they find themselves at Fred's house, watching old monster movies and throwing popcorn at each other during the commercials, with a smile on Hiro's face that's at least genuine, even if it's small.

It's Fred who notices first, maybe because of the decreased volume compared to the blaring advertisements on either side, that the screen is showing a public service announcement, a request for help from one of the hospitals in identifying an unknown coma patient brought in six months before. It's different enough to interest him, and that attracts the gaze of the others, so by the time the picture of the patient is shown there are six pairs of eyes turned to the screen and so it's five human jaws that drop open because they know that face, even under the nearly-healed burns. It's Baymax who confirms what they're too scared to ask, happily chirping "Tadashi is there" and drawing a strangled, broken sob from Hiro's throat at six months of heartbreak and grief come crashing to a halt all at once.

Quick-thinking Gogo has the presence of mind to scribble down the number on the screen as the others start talking all at once and a shellshocked Hiro clings to Honey as his mind tries to process the revelation that his brother isn't dead, and she's the one who keeps her wits about her enough to herd them downstairs into Wasabi's new but still tiny car, her girlfriend carrying a shaking boy who shouldn't be light enough for her to carry but still skips far too many meals. She drives them to the hospital as fast as the overloaded vehicle will go, and for once Wasabi doesn't complain.

Calm, orderly-minded Wasabi is the one who manages to coherently explain themselves to the nurse at the front desk, get across to her that no, the dazed kid standing half-supported by the walking pillow doesn't need a doctor, he needs to see the brother whose soul he thought he'd buried in an empty casket six months before but didn't. That they know who the coma patient with the bad burns is that the hospital was making one last ditch effort to identify before they pull the plug, the thought of which brings another agonized sound from Hiro that he muffles in Baymax's arm. Eventually, they convince her, and another nurse leads them down the maze of halls to the room Tadashi lies in.

It's Hiro, they decide unanimously, who should go in first, see the brother they thought was gone and burned and buried in a lonely cemetary but instead is suddenly on the other side of the hospital door, but none of them are far behind him, all leaning on each other under the sudden weight of the sound of life-support machines and hospital monitors and IV drips that dictate the rhythm of Tadashi's heart and lungs and life. It's not just Wasabi who thinks he looks uncomfortably asymmetrical with burns down one side of his face and neck and his torso seeming lopsided under the sheets where his right arm is missing from the shoulder joint down, amputated, the nurse reads from the records, to free him from the massive white-hot girder that pinned him to the ground and seared the limb to the bone and scorched that side of his body even as it saved his life by shielding him from the blast.

There's no question of making Hiro leave his brother's side. Honey Lemon leaves the room to call Aunt Cass, telling her what happened and patiently waiting for questions after the woman has had a chance to cry. Wasabi and Gogo make a list of what Hiro will need if he's going to stay here overnight for a while, and Fred regales Tadashi with rambling accounts of everything that's happened without concern as to whether or not the elder Hamada brother can hear him. Hiro is silent, sitting next to the bed with Baymax by his side and his brother's hand held tight, and Gogo adds Baymax's charging station to the supply list while she and Wasabi discuss a better arrangement for recording Hiro's lectures since she doubts he'll go anywhere soon.

When they leave, promising to return in the morning with the necessary supplies, Hiro is still sitting there, clutching Tadashi's hand as if it'll disappear.

It's been seven months since the fire at the exhibition hall, and one since they discovered that the holes in their hearts have had the missing piece returned without warning. Tadashi is healing slowly and the doctors say he's improved more in a month with Hiro constantly at his side than in the six months before so all they can do is wait and hope that he might wake up soon. And Hiro too has improved even if he doesn't realize it but the others know that he doesn't have bad days anymore and it's a relief to not wonder if they're going to find a knife in his arm.

In between doing his coursework at night after the notes are dropped off by his friends on their evening visits and spending the day sleeping at his brother's bedside with the other's hand clutched tightly in his, Hiro talks to Tadashi as he upgrades Baymax to ensure the best possible care is available, spilling out the heartache and guilt and grief and the rare moments of happiness that were still tarnished by his older brother's absence in those six painful months. He apologizes for anything and everything from the fact that he never took the time to appreciate Tadashi's protectiveness for the love it was to the fact that he never realized the upgraded scanner couldn't pick up weak lifesigns at range and so Tadashi spent six months here with no family and no name. He tells him he loves him and apologizes for not saying it more.

It's been another two weeks and Hiro is dozing while Honey rambles on about her latest chemical experiments, keeping them company on a day off from school, when Baymax suddenly gets up from the box of legos Gogo gave him to practice manual dexterity. It takes Hiro a moment to realize the robot is leaning over Tadashi to scan him and when he does a shock of hope jolts him back to full awareness to exchange nervous glances with Honey beside him.

Their question is answered a moment later by a twitch of fingers in the younger boy's grip and a faint groan rasping from a smoke-damaged throat. Hiro's own breath catches in response and he manages to choke out Tadashi's name, his voice sounding young and scared to his own ears but he's rewarded by a sliver of dazed brown eye peeking out between dark lashes and that pushes him over the edge as he throws himself onto Tadashi's chest and starts to sob, the months of pain leaking out in bottled-up tears that confuse his brother who doesn't remember anything between the fire and now and he doesn't know where he is but he reaches up anyway with his remaining hand to stroke Hiro's hair and try to soothe him like he always does, and Hiro just cries harder because his beloved Tadashi is here.

Honey slips out of the room to give the brothers privacy, wearing the biggest smile she has in seven and a half months and with tears of happiness in her own eyes as she calls the others one at a time and gets to hear the joy and emotion in each of their voices at the news, the sound of Wasabi who never cuts class packing up and leaving in the middle of a lecture, of Gogo shoving her precious experimental bike into the hands of a mere freshman and ordering them to take it to the robotics lab as she runs for the parking lot, of Fred abandoning the comic shop line-up even though it's delivery day and they might run out of the new issues, and of Cass hastily informing her customers that she needs to close up shop right now because her family needs her even though poetry slam night is two hours away.

She hangs up but stays in the hallway, watching through the gap in the doorway as the brothers cling to each other. There'll be time ahead for questions and explanations and pain and recovery but regardless of what comes they're all together again and as long as they have that every day will be a good one.


End file.
